The Onahole Debacle

"Sister."

I called out to her in a low, soft voice.

Deliberately lowering my tone, I slowly leaned my upper body forward.

Creak—.

The physical distance between Grace and me shrank to a handspan, then half that.

As we drew closer, the heat radiating from her body washed over my skin.

The faint lavender scent that usually enveloped her.

And layered over it, the sweet smell of alcohol.

The two clashing bodily scents mingled, creating a strangely sensual vibe.

"Hngh…."

A suppressed moan-like breath escaped between her lips.

Grace's shoulders trembled like aspen leaves in the wind.

And I flicked my eyes to read the status window.

What can I say—on the outside, she was trembling in fear, but inside, she was expecting it.

Honestly, stopping here wouldn't be the act of a real man.

Shift.

As I tilted my head slightly to adjust the angle, Grace's black eyes shook wildly, like there was an earthquake.

And then.

Squeeze—!

Unable to hold out any longer, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠she squeezed her eyes shut tight.

At the same time, her red, moist lips parted slightly, quivering.

Anyone could see it was permission.

"…."

I froze in place, gazing down at the breathtaking scene.

Her long eyelashes fluttering because her eyes were shut so tight.

Her white cheeks flushed like they were about to burst.

Her slender neckline throbbing above the stiff collar of her nun's habit.

For real, for about a second, I felt the impulse to just crash my lips into hers right then.

But.

'...What the hell am I doing?'

She was drunk right now, not in a state to make sound judgments.

Plus, Grace was a nun. A woman who'd devoted herself to God.

Even if she gave permission, I had to hold back.

I took a deep breath to suppress my instincts.

So instead of kissing her, I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠slowly reached out and poked her cheek, where her eyes were squeezed shut.

Poke—.

Her soft, squishy skin sank under my fingertip.

"Ow!"

Startled by the sudden physical stimulus, Grace's eyes flew open.

"What are you doing? Why's your mouth hanging open like that?"

I casually leaned back, reclining deep into my chair.

"Did you think I was gonna kiss you or something?"

"...Huh?"

A dumb sound slipped from Grace's lips.

She seemed to realize she'd just had her eyes closed and lips out, ready for a kiss.

And that I'd seen it, poked her, and backed off.

Her black eyes, staring blankly into space, slowly—very slowly—regained focus.

And the moment she fully grasped the situation.

Whoosh—!

Grace's face flushed hotter than before, like steam was about to pour from her head.

"U-Uwaaaah—!"

She clapped her hands over her burning face and faceplanted onto the table.

"I-I'm crazy! What did I just do! Aaaah!"

Screams leaked through her fingers.

"This is all the alcohol's fault! It's really just the booze! Sniff, I sold my soul to Satan's potion... Lord, kill me now…."

Banging her forehead on the table, she looked just like a sinner cast into hellfire.

"What am I even doing... They'll strip me of my nun status... How am I supposed to face the orphanage kids starting tomorrow... Sniff sniff…."

Soon, tears welled up as she sank into an endless swamp of self-loathing.

'If I leave her like this, she might hurt herself.'

I stood, walked over to Grace.

"Come on, save the repentance for tomorrow morning when you're sober. Let's get up first."

I grabbed her arms, stuck to the table, and hoisted her up.

"Kyaa!"

Too drunk to stand on her own, Grace collapsed into my arms like a spineless jellyfish.

In the process, the weight of her breasts pressed fully against my chest, but I ignored it.

Practically dragging her stumbling form, I headed to my bedroom.

Thud.

And tossed her onto the bed.

"Nngh…."

Buried in the bed, Grace groaned and writhed.

With only the bedside lamp dimly lit, I announced,

"Sleep here tonight. In that state, if you take a taxi, you'll puke on the street or become a criminal target."

I opened the closet door and continued.

"I'll crash on the living room sofa, so don't worry. Oh, if you're anxious, lock the door from inside."

At my words, Grace clutched the bedsheet tight and flushed again.

"Ugh, seriously... This hurts my pride…."

She mumbled into the pillow.

"What am I doing... Thrown onto a guy's bed and nothing happens... Guess I'm not attractive after all…."

I paused pulling out pajamas from the closet and chuckled again.

"It's not that you're unattractive. It's that I have strong self-control."

"Liar…."

"And you don't know how the world works."

I gripped the doorknob and said,

"Someday you might get disillusioned with nun life and quit, right? Save that precious first kiss for the man who'll be by your side then."

Half teasing, half sincere. And no sooner had the words left my mouth.

Spring—!

Grace, sprawled like a corpse on the bed, bounced up like a coil.

"…."

A strange glint flickered in her black eyes.

Like a gambler refusing defeat, gearing up for a last desperate gamble….

"I-I can't be the only one suffering here."

She staggered off the bed.

"I can't be the only one with this black history, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠treated like a fool!"

She started scanning my room.

"There has to be... has to be some fatal weakness of Brother Lee Han's hidden somewhere in this room! It's a single guy's place! I swear I'll find it and embarrass you just as bad—get ready!"

Declaring war, she charged straight at my desk drawer.

Rattle! Rattle!

Even stumbling drunk, her hands yanked the drawers open relentlessly.

I leaned against the doorframe, watching leisurely.

"Go ahead and search. You could dig for a hundred days and find nothing but dust."

There was no embarrassing item in this room she could uncover.

I was 100% sure of that.

"...Huh?"

Then my gaze drifted to the empty storage drawer under the bed.

And Grace's hand delved into the bottom of the pile of delivery boxes in the corner.

That's when I dredged up a tiny, horrifying detail I'd sealed away in my memory.

A few months ago, while browsing an internet community, pure curiosity struck—what made this thing so hyped by guys?—and I'd impulse-bought it.

But when the package arrived and I opened it, an indescribable wave of regret hit me.

So I never used it once.

Too wasteful to toss, too pathetic to use, I shoved it back in the box, buried it under a stack of deliveries in the corner, and forgot all about it.

And now, Grace's hand gripped that ominous box exactly.

"W-Wait a sec!"

I paled and lunged forward, yelling.

But she'd already ripped it open!

"Found it! Your reaction confirms this is your weakness!"

What tumbled out: a peach-colored silicone lump.

An adult toy whose purpose was obvious at a glance.

The packaging plastic was even torn off, exposing its explicit shape under the fluorescent light.

"…."

"…."

Time stopped.

I froze mid-reach, turned to stone.

Grace stared blankly at the thing on the floor.

"Wh-What's... this?"

She blinked.

Innocently clueless about its use? Or denying reality despite knowing? Hard to tell.

Then she staggered, squatted down, and poked the peach silicone with her index finger.

Squish.

Her finger traced the surface, then hit the intimate 'hole' in the center.

"Uh... this is…."

That instant. Grace's movement halted.

Her black eyes shook like an earthquake.

Redness crept from her nape up her cheeks, dyeing her earlobes crimson in seconds.

Turn—.

She slowly, stiffly—like her neck was in a brace—turned to stare at me.

"Brother... this is…."

"No, it's not."

I denied it without a second's hesitation.

"Misunderstanding. Not mine."

"Th-Then why's something this... this indecent... in your room!"

"A friend... yeah, a friend sent it as a prank. Wrong delivery. I didn't even know what was in the box."

I lied with a straight face, thick as steel.

Of course, she didn't buy it.

She alternated glances between the onahole on the floor and my face, breathing raggedly.

"Hah, hah…."

And watching her, I had a horrifying thought.

Her snitching! To Sister Helena, who'd raised me like her own son!

Something like, "Brother Lee Han has a weird thing in his room!"

And then.

"...Heh, hehehe."

A laugh leaked from Grace's downturned lips.

"Sister?"

"I almost got burned alone."

She staggered to her feet.

"I almost became the loose woman who closed her eyes begging for a kiss while drunk!"

She pointed accusingly at me.

"Brother Lee ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Han! Show me right now how you use this thing—in front of my eyes!"

"...Pardon?"

I doubted my ears.

"Didn't hear me?! This! This... indecent thing! Demonstrate how you normally use it! Make your face as red as mine, feel my shame! Now!"

To subdue this raging drunkard, the only way was to push back hard.

"Hah... Fine."

I flashed a sleazy grin and took a step toward her.

"If you help me directly, Sister, sure, I'll show you."

Grace's frantic body froze.

She gulped, her eyes darting lost in the air.

'No matter how drunk, she's still a nun—she won't go further. I'll get an apology tomorrow.'

Just snatch the thing and tuck her in, done.

Thinking that, I glanced absently at my smartphone screen in my pocket.

The open Desire App's hologram flickered, spitting out new text.

Grace... slowly picked up the onahole and approached me.

Looking up at me, she said,

"How... do I help with this?"

I could see her eyes wavering.